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This call to fatherhood, I hear it
In the quiet twitching below my belly
And in my heart when my eyes meet
With the yearning gaze of my neighbour’s son
The glitter of his eyeballs telling a story
Of curious wonder and a smile so intriguing
That I begin to wish he were mine Continue reading →

Your father was stubborn. And because you were strong-willed too, you refused to wear the vest of shock she gave you.

Its sight pinched you, drove pins into your skin till they grazed your aorta. You feared they would shred the muscles of your heart but you would not give up.

You told her. Again and again. She would smile. And walk. Away into the starry night. Hope for you was the setting sun, it had to rise in the morning. But for company at night, you drained your data on Instagram.

Nostalgia led your bytes to her page and you drowned in the forgetfulness that characterised it. Her hearty smile and your restrained cheer in a red shirt were gone, the one with your pimpled nose too. Vaporised!

You went to Twitter and checked her bio. It was there you realised the sun would rise at dawn but not with hope for your shredded heart.

The word ‘Lover’ was gone, space occupied its place, your subtle reference. You were now a vile history, an unholy anecdote, cleansed, and erased.

(Heartbreak in a time of fuel crisis, as inspired by a conversation on radio).

They met at the subsidy rally in Ojota, the day Femi Kuti came. Femi wore a wry smile as fans took pictures with him. He gave her his Curve 2 to snap him with Femi and he in turn took a picture of her with radio. He twitpic-ed a picmixed version of the pictures with: #EnoughIsEnough, #GEJmustGo. Continue reading →

She asked Segun to tell her the Yoruba translation of “Equity aids the vigilant.” She needed it for Dr. Coker’s test the next day but it seemed all he wanted was a kiss. She stopped him and he called her stiff, boring, uninteresting and some other “ing’s” that pricked her ears till they squeezed tears from her eyes. She did not even know she was crying till she felt the wetness on her notepad, he made it that easy with those lips of his, the same that lunged at hers just some minutes before. Continue reading →

This morning, when he said those words after the presiding pastor, currents of excitement ran down your spine, circling and mildly teasing your bowel.

The words “to have and to hold” echoed in your head, your tongue pushing against the inside of your shining teeth. All that the congregation could see was you, a beautiful bride, and him, an excited groom. No one knew of Eniola and her magic fingers, and your Xperia, the one with the “baddest filters” and Instagram, your playground where he found you, you that he declared a good thing.

As he made to lift your veil, you wondered why he never took you for the swimming test, never visited early in the morning or unannounced. You felt he should know so you told him during the procession “for better, for worse can mean with or without makeup”.

He smiled, laughed and smiled again. The world was lost on your joke but you found that look in his eyes at the reception, the uncertainty you had the first time you bought shoes online.